


writing requests!!

by popup_potato



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-11 18:53:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10471719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popup_potato/pseuds/popup_potato
Summary: Oki doki! So this right here will be where imma post my writing requests!If you would like to state one, please go have a look atmy writing-only-blogfor more details :DI will update this with tags and whatnot as I go!





	1. JohnDave - Dave gettin' it for the first time

**Author's Note:**

> [NSFW]  
> The first request! bottom!Dave honestly ain't my style, but the anon was just so sweet, like,,, damn<3  
> But yeah! I'm sorry it ended rly tame kinda, kinda figuring out how to do these requests properly so they don't turn into fucking page long essays :o

“Okay. So. How do we do this?”

John looked to Dave, hearing the concern laced around his voice. Obviously, Dave was feeling less than comfortable with the whole idea as of yet. The scarlet color in his cheeks was not from arousal, but embarrassment― for once, John was the one with experience when it came to their Bedroom Adventures, and it put Dave in a place he had not been before. The place being on John’s dick. The thought alone had John stifling a laugh. 

“Hey, what’s so funny? Dude, why the fuck are you laughing?”

“No, no, I’m sorry. It’s just― Geez, you should see your face!”

“John. This isn’t funny.”

“Come on, it _ _kinda__ is.” 

“Okay, fine.” Dave threw his hands in the air, the bed creaking beneath him as he made a swift move to fidget in his place. The sound had John make a note to see to those bed springs, neither of them wanted another complaint from the people in the downstairs apartment. Last time had been plenty awkward. It was nothing but a spare thought, though, as Dave was continuing to talk― the blond drew in a big breath, and John steeled himself from the oncoming ramble that was bound to dawn upon him. 

“We’re not doing this, then. If you can’t keep laughing like a goddamn hyena, I would honestly prefer you get off the bed and go act out your furry persona somewhere else. Ain’t no way you are gettin’ your doggy dick all up in these sweet buttock, no sir. Yer gonna have to go hump a pillow. How would this even work in ‘ta first place? A chihuahua and a great dane ain’t supposed ‘ta do it doggy style, it’s just nature’s law. Ain’t nobody fuckin’ with Mother Nature. And you are most definitely not fuckin’ with me, yer frisky little―” 

“Alright, alright! Settle down, __cowboy__.” 

Dave’s face flared at the comment, taking on several shades darker. He had a habit of slipping into his Southern tongue, and it was a trait not lost on John. In fact, the guy practically sniffed it out like a bloodhound, using it at any given opportunity to make Dave’s cheeks blush. This time, however, John spoke with something softer in his voice. The amorous tone was not lost on Dave. John’s voice had a spot in his heart, right at one of the major arteries, and it could either squeeze him tight or make all the blood rush to its respective places; up or down. The flow seemed to go both directions. Dave’s shoulder lowered themselves from their defensive position.

”I am settled. Unsettled, but settled,” he said, all in one breath. 

“Do you want to stop?”

“Nah.”

“Because we can stop.”

“No.” 

The look on John’s face was one of skepticism; his mouth was a thin line, upper lip protruding just a little from his front teeth, his brows knitted together, and eyes narrowed. Although the last part could just be due to him not wearing his glasses, he never did during sex. Unlike Dave. This time, though, he had taken them off. He needed to see all of it, in full color, to be able to decipher his feelings about it, because, honestly, he was having a hard time distinguishing the warmth in his gut. It was either butterflies or a swarm of wasps. When John’s hand reached for him, touching his knee, it was all he needed for clarification; it was definitely butterflies. They fluttered at the touch, and their eyes met. Red staring ahead at blue. 

“Dave, are you sure? Like, a 100 percent sure?” 

The honest concern in John’s expression had Dave at a loss of words. He gave a mere nod of his head, but it did not suffice to answer John’s question. 

“I mean it. If you changed your mind, we don’t have to do this.”

“I was the one who made the proposal.”

“Yeah, but still...”

”Would a guy who said, and I quote, want your Thomas Train up his poop chute in a night of steamy bed rolling back out when we were just about to start our engines?”

“That made no sense whatsoever.”

“You know what I mean.” 

They had already had this conversation once before, they needn’t have it again. But the both of them were still hesitating. Dave was the first to move, his chest rising and falling with a great deep sigh. Again, the bed groaned beneath them. He leaned forward and towards John, cupping the man’s face and feeling strands of dark hair tickle his fingers, and then brought their lips together. He could feel John melt into it. It was slow and steady, both grasping for leverage in the situation, finding none but each other. A pair of long, slender arms wounded themselves around John’s neck, and his own hands searched for that little transparent bottle that would prove to be their lifeline. He found it, gripping it tightly and trying to pop the lid with just one hand― it took greater concentration than he had counted on. 

John fell out of the kiss, eyes glancing down at his own hands. Dave’s mouth still moved against his own, needy and hungry for more if the tongue that darted was anything to judge by. But it got no response, Dave’s face quickly settling in a frown. 

“Holy fucking Christ, John, give me that thing.”

“No! Dave, I can do―” 

The bottle was snatched from John’s fingers before he could finish his objection, and his hand was grasped just as quickly. Dave got the bottle open with ease, squeezing an unnecessarily big amount into John’s palm; he had to use both hands for it not to spill onto the sheets. 

“Okay, okay! That’s enough!” 

“I’m not taking chances with my virgin ass,” Dave groaned. He tossed the bottle aside once the lid was secured again, the thing almost half empty, and he surged in to crash his lips against John’s again. This time, he used his hands to undress himself. He raised onto his knees and pulled down his boxers; despite the nerves, he was sporting a semi erection. With one hand, he guided John own hand lower, indifferent to the lube that dripped onto the bed. Dave couldn’t help it but tense when the cold substance touched against his ass. John caught up where Dave hesitated, letting a single finger slip between his cheeks and rubbing against his entrance. He could feel how Dave shivered at the touch. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? You know I don’t mind bottoming; we can wait if you need more time?”  

“No―” Dave stuttered over his own breath. “No. I want to try this. Just give me the slip, come on.”

”The slip?”

“As in slip your goddamn finger up my ass.”

“Oh. Right, yeah, okay. Just tell me if it’s bad, alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” It was all the confirmation John got. He knew he was supposed to trust his boyfriend, but Dave had a bad habit of biting down on his own tongue when feelings arose. But when the roles were reversed, Dave trusted that John was honest with him; it was only fair that John did the same. Dave’s arms wrapped around his neck again, still raised just slightly on his knees, and John took it was a cue to get started more than Dave’s word. He circled the other’s entrance, covering it with lube before applying pressure. The stretch was tight and slow, John having to remind Dave to relax and kiss the man until he would lose some of the build up tension. Right until the point that John found the spot that had both their hearts skip a beat, equally surprised by the hitched moan that left Dave’s throat. A triumphant grin spread across John’s face. 

“Jackpot.” 

Dave made a loud groan, pulling the brunet into a deep kiss to keep more stupidity from leaving his mouth. He could feel how John’s lips were curled in a coy smile. Yet the coyness remained up there; lower down, John was all gentle touches and explorations. A second finger was added, and it stung just a smidgen. Something incoherent about relaxing was mumbled against Dave’s lips, but he heard it not. He was drowning himself within the kisses he kept seeking out, barely giving John enough time to talk at all, let alone breathe. Heat was spreading through him, reaching as far as to his fingertips, and they were like embers on John’s skin. The discomfort dissolved, turning into a feeling entirely different, and Dave found himself wanting to hurry on with something that he should not― he wound up a little butthurt the next day.  


	2. DirkJake - Tattoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> [SFW]  
> A DirkJake request! Did a lil something cute with this and some added kissing.  
> There are no warnings for this, as it's pretty fluffy and all. Although I may do a NSFW sequel to this, something involving tight suits, short shorts, and nerds cosplaying mayhaps :0c

The makeshift needle was hovering just above his skin, ready to pierce and deflate the pompous act Jake was trying to put on; his chest was pushed out, his shoulders drawn back, and he looked about ready to take on the world. It had Dirk raise a brow high above his shades, knowing he would have to exaggerate his expression for Jake to catch it. Sometimes, it was a hassle. And sometimes, he wondered if Jake could see a damned thing through those glasses of his. Time and time again he would have to stop the guy and point out the glaringly obvious smudges on the glass, always accompanied with a comment of disbelief at how Jake was able to see through the stained spectacles at all. As of right now, there was the imprint of an index finger smack in the middle of the left eye. It took all of Dirk’s self-control to not immediately snatch the specs from off the other’s nose. He preferred his space neat and tidy; even now he had not spilled a single drop of ink. Albeit that would be the cause of not yet having used it.  

“You ready?” Dirk asked for the third time. It was to rule out all doubt, or more to address the second thoughts he could practically hear swirling around inside that thick skull of Jake’s. Dirk knew him well enough to recognize the signs; the boy was skittish. Jake had acted the same the first time they had kissed― on the mouth, while Dirk’s head was still attached to his body, making a whole person. He much preferred that to the alternative; the connection between lips and nerves transferred Jake’s warmth to a tingle down his spine, and Dirk was sure that Jake had felt the same. But tenfold. Tense and rigid, but with a spark in his eyes that Dirk could do nothing but humor.

“How many more times must I tell you? Yes! I am as ready as could possibly be!”

Dirk was not convinced; Jake was not even looking at him, staring straight ahead with a look of determination that would be better described as stubbornness. And a fear of losing face. The boy’s thick, dark brows were taught on his forehead, his mouth set in a straight line with just the slightest up quirk, and the tanned skin of his knuckles had gone pale from gripping onto his own knees. All the signs of pent up tension. Dirk was certain that a single prick of the needle would have it erupt.

“You’re about as ready as a mouse jumping into a spring-trap― No. Scratch that, at least a mouse is unaware of its ultimate demise. You, on the other hand, is going right for it like a moth to a flame. One would think you would have learned your lesson by the plenty of times you’ve been burnt.”

“I am sorry, are you trying to appease my jitters? You are doing a balls-up job at it, mate.”

“Just sayin’. If you wanna go chicken and cross the road to second thoughts, I won’t stop you.”

“Excuse me?”

A grin crept onto Dirk’s face. He lowered the needle, the one that was tied to the end of a pencil in a fit of creative advancement in order to create the inking tool, and he leaned back on the bed they were sitting upon. Though Jake would have preferred to have done it outside, Dirk had insisted they acted within the sterilized four walls of the other’s room, where there at least was only a minimal amount of dirt to mess up the work. Back then, Jake had been easily persuaded, just as he was now― in truth, Dirk did not want for Jake to change his mind, but the doubt was inevitable. When Jake had first commented on Dirk’s tattoo with an enthusiasm unmatched by any, Dirk had felt a swell of pride. When Jake had jokingly slipped the idea of getting one himself, that swelling had turned to honest interest. Then want, and the more he thought about it, possessiveness. It was not something Dirk would outwardly admit to, but in the privacy of his own thoughts, he could let it run freely; the idea of putting something so permanent on Jake rose feelings within him that were hard to deny. So he indulged them instead. Dirk knew exactly how to play Jake. A mere jab at his pride, and the boy was scurrying to redeem himself. As he was now, turning his head to give Dirk that trademark pout and narrow eyes. Dirk could predict what came next; defensiveness.

“I am __not__  a chicken!”

“I don’t know, bro. You look to be fluffing up your feathers well enough there.”

“I am not! You are being arse to front about this, I―”

“Ass to front?”

“Let me finish,” Jake sneered, stopping Dirk before he could go ahead and make fun of his choice of words. “I can handle whatever rubbish you decide to throw at me, I am honestly offended you think me unable! A load of bullocks that is. I’m no twee fellow, you know this.”

“You use Hello Kitty band-aids.”

“ _ _Your__ band-aids, might I add.”

“Touche.” The sigh that left Dirk sounded to Jake like defeat, but it was really triumph; he was tuning Jake to sing just the right notes. With the confirmation that, yes, Jake wanted this, Dirk’s hands found their way back to his shoulder. Red lines were drawn there, almost blending in with the warm undertones of Jake’s skin, left there by the sun, and they functioned as his guidance. Though the lines were as crooked and shaky as anything, it fit the picture perfectly. Jake had yet to see it, to even hear about the imagery Dirk thought to put on his skin despite his consistent questioning. It was a sign of trust and, though it was lost on Jake, it spoke volumes to Dirk.

The spot on Jake’s shoulder had a shine to it from the rubbing alcohol Dirk had wiped the skin with, and the smell of it hung in the air. As well as the lingering smell of fire. The sharp end of the needle had been held to a lighter’s flame until it glowed red, effectively snuffing out whatever germs that possibly inhabited it. The last thing either of them wanted was for Jake’s wound to get infected. Dirk twiddled the pencil in his hand, checking one more time to see whether the needle was strapped on tight enough; it was tied to the pencil with a thread. Apparently, he spent too long inspecting the gear, because Jake spoke up again.

“Come on now, Strider.” Jake still had a habit of calling Dirk by his surname, the formalities his grandmother had taught him sticking to his tongue. However, the old stylish speech had been upgraded, if it could be called that, to now include much more modern references, most of which were derived from movies. With a sidelong glance, Jake added a more playful note to his impatient inquiry; “Draw me like one of your French girls.”

A honest snort of a laugh came from Dirk. “That would require for you to get naked.”

“A good excuse to get starkers. Though for the time being, I would prefer to remain clothed.”

“Too bad my pencil is preoccupied right now, I ought to have jotted that down for later reference.”

“Get on with it, Strider. I am starting to think you are the one stalling, not me.”

“Just checkin’ before I go prick you full of holes.”

“Oh, please! It will be but a breeze!”

Dirk hummed, not in agreement, but just acknowledgment of Jake’s words. There were no need to drag it out any further, and Dirk’s hand went for the bottle of Indian ink. He dipped the needle in it, noticing how Jake shifted in his seat and averted his gaze. The point of the needle was back to hovering above Jake’s skin, Dirk’s hand supporting itself against him while the other stretched out the surface. And then came the first prick. The needle pierced the skin easily, Dirk making sure to do it quick and effectively, knowing full well that it would cause a jerk of Jake’s body. The guy was so responsive in every aspect of life, in pain and love and hate all the same, and Dirk did his to try and see through the patterns. Yet even as he knew Jake’s every next move, the boy bewildered him.

Sure enough, Jake jumped in his place, his lips twitching at the feeling. But he stayed put, not shying away or telling Dirk to stop. The second jab of the needle went smoother, the third was barely even there, and each following prick of skin was different than the last, fluctuating between short pain and nothing at all. Dirk payed intent attention to how the needle broke the layers of skin, only the two first. But then he came to the twentieth prick, and Jake flinched away from his hands with a yelp.

“God almighty! That __hurt__.”

“Fucking hell, Jake, you need to sit still. I might just jab the whole damn thing, pencil and all, through your arm if you don’t. You’re like a chicken without a head.”

“Oh, put a dirty sock in that gobby mouth of yours!”

A hand closed around Jake’s arm, pulling him back towards Dirk. “I’m serious here. We already started, and I told you, like, about a dozen times that once you start there ain’t no turning tail. Actually, if you want the precise number, I could crank it up no problem. Maybe it could help put things into proper proportions.”

“You’re talking like I’m bout to give up. Which I am not! This is nothing but―”

“A breeze. Yeah, you already said that. Look, it’s just that I can’t work when you’re throwin’ a damn fit every two seconds.”

“I only did it once!”

“So you admit to throwing a fit.”

“Ugh, you cheeky bugger. Just get on with it.”

They held each others’ gaze for a moment, neither of them likely to give in. Dirk went back to work, bringing a cotton ball to clean up some of the excessive ink. The black mixed with a bit of red, but he had expected as much. The needle came close again. He managed about ten more before Jake experienced his own personal earthquake again.

“Jake.”

“Ah, sorry.”

“I will personally strap you down.”

“Now, that would just be over the top. I’m dandy fine!”

“Then stop squirming.”

“What a load of cobblers, I am doing no such thing. I am as perfectly still as a statue. Perhaps it is you pushing me, hmm? After all, and this is no codswallop, but you have a way of mak―”

All other words were cut off, snuffed out between two lips colliding. Dirk brought a hand up to grasp Jake’s jaw, turning his head so that his mouth was within his reach, and he tasted those lips. They were sweet, no trace of the previously sour words left on them. Dirk’s mouth fit over Jake’s just so, their noses brushing against one another, until he turned his head for better access. He was given it as Jake moved accordingly, like muscle memory. Craning his neck to the side, Dirk rejoined the warmth of their lip lock. He ran his tongue against Jake, relishing in the way the boy opened up immediately, meeting him with something so eager he found it hard to keep up with at times. Beneath his fingertips, he felt the heat rise to Jake’s face. They needed to be closer; Dirk rose onto his knees, scooting closer. Indigently, Jake tilted his head backwards, uncaring about the strain it brought to his neck, if only he kept his lips against Dirk’s. A wet tongue lapped against his own, tangling in the middle, right until Dirk pressed forward and down. He invaded Jake’s mouth, drawing a groan out of the brunet that could be felt more than heard, a vibration up through Jake’s throat. That slick muscle roamed the cave of Jake’s mouth, dragging across his teeth and tickling the insides of his cheeks. Jake forgot how to breathe through his nose, and Dirk was stealing what little he had stored away in his lungs.

A hand cradled Jake's face, sliding up along his throat to his jawline, and the pulse beneath his skin was evident; it was galloping, the same kind of adrenaline coursing through him as when he would come home from a long run, climbing a tree, or swimming against the current. It felt fast, high, and strong all the same. Jake could get lost within it. Dirk's fingers found their way into Jake's dark locks of hair, the paleness of his skin standing out in contrast until they were completely buried beneath the strands of black. A gasp released itself from Jake's throat, and Dirk swallowed it down with a greed so like him that Jake did not hesitate to give him more. The soft, muffled noises turned harsh, mixed in with the wet smack of lips. Dirk’s tongue was skilled in its approach, knowing where to push and prod, and Jake was anything but. He was sloppy, a right mess. Forgetting to swallow so saliva build up in the depth of his mouth, pooling out the corners. And Dirk just pushed in deeper, harder, the hand in his hair making it so that he could not pull back nor forward. He was held in place, pried open with teeth and tongue and eaten whole. Jake’s own hands found leverage beneath him, gripping on tight to the bed sheets as to not be completely run over by the sheer weight put upon him. He forgot entirely how to breathe.

The kiss broke, their faces only inches apart.

“Stop squirmin’.” There was no game in Dirk’s voice, raw and unfazed, but it had all the aspects of a self-satisfied victor. Jake openly admitted defeat, wiping the drool from his chin like licking his wounds.

”Yes. Okay. Right on.” Not another word left Jake’s lips. Some of the tension had been drained from his body, sucked out by Dirk through the kiss, and his shoulders slumped. They merely jumped slightly at the pressure of the needle puncturing his skin once more, repeating the action in quick, short jabs. Time and time again, the needle would go just a bit too deep, get a bit too close to bone and nerve, and Jake could do more than just jump. He yelped, cursed, and damned Dirk’s hand, to witch the other boy just scoffed; saying something about having to be thankful he was so skilled at sewing, or else Jake would have been more holed than Spongebob Squarepants himself. Jake had laughed at that, then winced as the action caused for his shoulders to shake, Dirk’s hand losing its foothold and scraping his skin.

“Ow! For Christ’s sake, watch it!”

“I __am__. And I told you to stop moving.”

“I’m trying! It’s hard when you got a bloke poking at you with a pointy stick.”

“You didn’t mind me pokin’ at you last night.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re being impossibly dodgy. Do you think me daft?”

“Would you like a truthful answer, or the one that is less likely to take a chunk of your pride?”

Dirk received a slap to his thigh and the miffed expression of his boyfriend, that same pout returning to his face. All Jake got in return was a silent laugh, the kind where Dirk would simply blow out air that shook ever so slightly to indicate his chuckling. He was subtle in his articulations, whereas Jake was gunpowder; ignite him and watch the sparks fly. And Dirk could feel said sparks as Jake’s hand lingered on his thigh, that affronted look softening.

“If I’m analyzing the atmosphere right, which by all account and previous experiences I am, then I might just be as daring as to say you’re waiting for a second kiss.”

The smile that cracked Jake’s face in two said it all, but Dirk beamed upon hearing the verbal confirmation. “Right as rain, champ.”

The space between them closed, Dirk coming closer. “It worked the first time, why not again?” he said, his breath ghosting across Jake’s lips. He could feel the faint warmth of them against his own, but he refrained from diving in, wanting to hear Jake’s voice. What he got was a breathy giggle.  

“You ought to test it out, then.”

“I might. Will you stop moving around like your ass is on fire and let me do my work?”

“Now, love, one thing at a time.”

“We started working before we started kissing, y’know.”

“As I recall, you were the one to start mentioned smooching.”

“Yes. In order to get use to stop moving. As much as I like to see your rump do the bounce, I would rather you not play with fire and have me accidentally stick a whole damn needle into your arm.”

“I’m getting tired of this argy-bargy. Can we got on with it?”

“Absolutely,” Dirk said, bringing up the improvised inking tool again. It was pushed down before it made contact with Jake’s skin by that same boy’s hand.

“No, not that. The other thing.”

“Oh?” A pale brow rose on Dirk’s face. “Tell you what, why don’t we strike a deal?” Jake’s eyes shone with interest, forgetting all about the ache in his shoulder from where Dirk had already managed half of the tattoo. “If you make any more jumps like that, as if you just sat on a firecracker, you’re to indulge me for a day. The day specifically being when ComicCon rolls around, and you will accompany me.” The emerald of Jake’s eyes narrowed, knowing all too well what that entailed― he found great pleasure in going such places, but Dirk’s interest in it combined with his talent of sewing was not a cocktail he would like to partake in. There was a limit to just how short shorts could get, or how tight a suit could be.

“And if I manage this inquiry of yours?”

“Then you get a day of personal Strider indulgence. Whatever movie, whatever dusty old and soon-to-crash-above-our-heads place you would like to go to, I will do as follows.”

“Now that sounds like a fair trade! You’re on, mate.”

“Thought so. Wait― are you serious?” A hand was outstretched towards him, Dirk eyeing it warily with an air of jocularity. “You want to shake on it?”

”The only way to make a proper deal between two decent gents,” Jake answered, cocking his head to the side expectantly. “Well?”

There was a brief moment’s hesitation, but then air looked to leave Dirk’s body all with a single breath. “A’ight. You got yourself a deal. May the best man win.”

”Oh, I certainly plan to.”


	3. DaveJohn - Daddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Whooo, boi,,,,, I fuckin' love Daddy Kink oh man,,,

Dave knew the moment his body betrayed his better intentions, the blood rushing to his face, that he was balls deep in trouble. Thinking back, he had been digging his own grave. It had all started out as a joke, a simple means of poking fun at John’s absolute inability to truly shake the influences of his father, even the ones he hated; knowing several bakery recipes by heart, unable to leave a shirt unfolded, and indulging his father in too many things. The man would send baskets filled with muffins, cookies, and all good that could come out of an oven, and John turned his nose up at each gift. Yet he had still not tossed a single one, nor had he told his father to stop sending them. That had been what spurred Dave to make the first of many mistakes― the first being calling John a _Daddy’s boy._

It had been harmless. A joke. The way John had spluttered and rushed to defend his wounded pride had been priceless, and in that moment Dave had thought it worth it. What had supposed to have been a brief jest turned into so much more, though. It escalated, both of them being at fault for that, and somehow John had managed to turn things on their head, retaliating with something Dave had not been prepared for; “Well, if I’m a Daddy’s boy, what doesn’t that make you? Maybe _you’re_ my Daddy.”    

For something so small to resound within his head days after was alarming. Dave did not know what to think of it at first; or rather, he had thought it all to just be his own brewing of a plan to get back at John. The guy’s rebut had rendered him speechless, a task not done easily. John had noticed the hesitation in Dave back then, the way he eventually hurried to change the subject with a “Shut up” and a dismissive flick of the wrist. That had been the first shovel of dirt Dave had done in digging his own grave.   

“Hey, Daddy! I’m home.” Each time John walked through the door to their shared apartment, pronouncing his arrival like that, it had Dave tense up. Whenever John responded with a “What can I say? I’m a Daddy’s boy after all,” when Dave asked him to do something and he agreed, it had the exact same effect. He was in deep, he knew. Growing up with a brother that made sex dolls for a living had exposed him to some of the more adventurous parts of sexuality, but never had he thought he would wind up with a Daddy kink. He had done his research, of course he had. It was like the time he came to the conclusion that he liked dick above vagina. He googled it. The magical searching device failed him in one aspect of his problem only; he had no idea how to go about telling John to stop saying that stupid word. Dave was popping more boners than he would have liked, and the fantasies taking up the space inside his mind were not as visually appealing as they were verbally. He could hear his boyfriend’s voice, moaning and crying out something that was not his name but damn near close to it― _Daddy_. But alongside the realization that he was a kinky motherfucker who may or may not have daddy issues, life continued on as normal. And when John initiated sex, it continued on as normal.  

The temperature of the room had skyrocketed. Their bodies were pressed close, naked skin rubbing against one another, and their breaths mingling in the lip lock. John’s quiet moans were swallowed down by Dave, who eagerly took the parted lips as an open invitation to dive inside. He roamed inside of John’s mouth, feeling the soft and slick flesh, tasting the minty toothpaste. For once, Dave had remembered to brush his teeth before bed with more than just one scornful reminder from John. Thinking of it now, this was likely the reason for John’s insistence on dental hygiene. Dave did not know what would become of him if he did not have John as the angel on his shoulder, outweighing all of the bad.

His hands did as his tongue did; they roamed. John’s skin was smooth beneath his touch. His hands traveled up that light brown figure, up past his wide hips and the pudge of his stomach, taking a moment to appreciate mushy flesh beneath his palms by giving it a squeeze. Then further, skimming across his sides and to his chest, running over his pert nipples and earning a keening sound that got lost inside of the kiss. Dave wanted to hear more of that. His ears were practically directly tied to his arousal, and John’s vocals were like symphonies. They filled a room with the sweetest angel choir. There was a very good reason why Dave so often jumped in with his boyfriend in the shower, and none of it had to do with saving water― the acoustics in the bathroom were simply too good to let go to waste.

Dave drew back from the kiss, leaving John’s lips red and swollen and his jaw slack, sucking in air through fast paced pants. With a single roll of his hips, Dave had that panting breaking off into a moan. Their arousals rubbed up against each other, Dave grinding them together from his position between John’s legs. John was holding on to him tightly with those legs, the soft of his thighs around Dave’s hips, trying to get closer still but not realizing he was making it all the harder to move.

“Spread your legs,” Dave said. His voice had grown ragged and strained, because despite the restrictive hold John had on him, the man was still rocking his hips just so. John’s cock rubbing up against Dave’s own in one languid stroke, sending a shudder through him. He was as desperate to get close as John was. “Now.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“What?”

“What?” John’s legs released their grip on Dave’s, spreading out so he could lay back properly on the bed. The sight was obscene. John with his thighs open wide, showing off his ass that he took in both hands, spreading the cheeks to give a nice view of his hole; his dick resting against his hipbone, swollen and red with want, glistening just slightly in the glow of the nightlight― Dave’s eyes were sensitive. Any stronger light breaking the dark would have him bitching about light sensitivity. In that moment, though, he wished he had more as if that would help illuminate the words that had left John’s lips.

“What did you just say?”

The grin that took to John’s face said it all― he was guilty as charged. When he said that word again, Dave felt a completely new spark of heat inside of himself. “Daddy.”

Dave hitched a breath, and John gave a laugh. John reached one arm up to wrap it around Dave’s neck, his nimble fingers playing with the blond hairs on the back of the other’s head, and he pulled Dave down. They shared a sweet, short kiss, one that Dave moaned into as his hips began moving again.

“Come on, Dad, get to it,” John whispered against the man’s lips, feeling them quiver and gape at the boldness to his words. “I want you to fuck me already.”

“J-Jesus Christ, John― Ooooh, _fuck._ ”

A sharp thrust of John’s hips had Dave’s tongue fall all over itself. John had raised up on the balls of his feet, managing to get Dave’s throbbing cock to slide right up against his ass. Dave fisted his hands into the sheets, his dick jumping at the attention given and knowing exactly where it wanted to go; John was putting himself on display, either spreading himself wide and inviting, or grinding on the hardness between Dave’s legs. The hand on the back of Dave’s head smoothed its way to the front, caressing his jaw just as a tongue licked into his open mouth. John sucked on his lips, nibbling on them with just enough force to draw a hiss out of him.

“Are you gonna make me beg for it, Daddy?” John’s tongue was hot and slick with saliva, licking the corner of Dave’s mouth as he ground his teeth together. “Haven’t I been good?”

“Good?” Dave growled. With his scarlet eyes solely trained on John, he blindly reached for the lube they had tossed somewhere on the bed before falling into a tangle of limbs. “You’re a fuckin’ tease.”

“Me?”

“Yeah you.” His hand found the bottle, immediately popping the lid open. The ass grinding on his dick clenched at the sound. “When did you find out?”

“Oh please.” John rolled his eyes. He used a hand to grab his own thigh, pushing it further away from the other to make space for Dave as he lowered a cold, wet finger to his ass. “You’re not as smooth an operator as you like to think you ar― Aaaah, o-oh, yes. Fucking _finally._ ”

One finger had slipped inside of John, coated in lube and slick, easily making it past the ring of muscle. Dave wasted no time in pushing it in further, going to the knuckle and feeling how the inner walls were already giving way beneath the intrusion.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“And what? Make you jizz your pants in public? Didn’t know you were into exhibit― AH!” Without warning, Dave shoved a second finger inside, followed shortly by a third. The stretch stung, John’s legs instinctively looking to close together, but he forced them to stay open; he loved it. Dave’s fingers were long and skeletal, every protruding joint could be felt as they began to slide in and out of John. It had John concentrating more on steadying his breathing for a moment, adjusting to Dave’s fingers. He was not allowed much time, the digits speeding up their back and forth rhythm, reaching in deep each time. They rubbed against his inner walls and spread themselves, making the muscles eventually give way for something much bigger. John could hardly wait. His hand gripped on tight to Dave’s shoulder, the other joining in on the grip as well to support himself. Holding on to Dave, he could feel how the man’s taught muscles recoil at the sound of just his voice.

“H-hurry it up.”

“Shit, someone’s impatient.”

“I’ve been waiting for Daddy all day, of course I’m― Haaah, w-wait, d-d-don’t stop! What are you― _AAH!_ ”

Dave’s fingers were nothing compared to that of his cock. He had pulled the three digits out abruptly, leaving John with only the itch of their absence. No more than a scoot and a thrust later, though, was he being pried wide open by Dave’s girth; the man pushed it in with one swift motion, reaching almost all the way before John’s body caught up and clenched around him. A deep rumble of a growl pushed its way through his teeth, his back a curve as he bent over John’s shaking body beneath him. Dave was beyond teasing. He could not, not with John crying out for him and squeezing so tightly on his cock, practically pulling him deeper inside of that all engulfing heat. He complied eagerly. Pulling his hips back, he snapped them forward. John’s head threw backwards in a silent scream, the sound never making it out of his mouth even as it hung open. Those hands on gripping Dave’s shoulders twitched, losing their strength and had to dig in nails to keep their hold. The sheets were sliding beneath John’s back as Dave began to pick up speed, continually thrusting into him right up to the point where their skin finally conjoined together; John’s backside received a slap from Dave’s upper thighs and hips for each aggressive forward push.

“Is this what you wanted?” The words were spoken close to John’s blushing ears. He had not seen Dave lean down with how he was squeezing his eyes shut, overcome with the feeling of the cock ramming into him. The other man’s voice was breathless, portraying every feeling that was coursing through Dave as well.   

“G-god, yes! Yes, Daddy!” John was practically screaming. Dave spared a single thought to their neighbors, but with the open invitation in the form of John’s spread legs right before him, he found that getting another complaint would be worth it. He grabbed on to John’s hips, fingers digging into the plush flesh so hard it would leave bruises. With that as leverage, he slammed into the man, hitting that sweet bundle of nerves and making him work his throat raw with how he cried out. Their skin were slapping together, John’s ass cheeks growing redder with each harsh thrust; Dave pulled out so only the head of his cock was left, then pulled John right back onto his cock, meeting him halfway as he jerked his hips forward. It pushed out the most beautiful sounds from John. Each note was higher than the last, some of them broke into a strangled sound or a gurgle as if he was drowning in the ecstasy. Drool had gathered in his mouth, running down his chin and following his jawline. Those pretty blue eyes were lost in a haze, halfway hidden behind heavy eyelids, and Dave would never get tired of the sight― he would never get tired of how John moaned for him.

It was all adding up and gathering as a heavy feeling in his balls. He was on the edge, but he did not think to be embarrassed about how quickly it had happened, all because of a single word. That same word rolled off of John’s tongue even then. “D-Daddy, o-oh fuck, yes! Ple-please, Daddy, it feels so― Feels so g-good, Daddy!” It was driving him crazy; John’s voice was coming out right next to his ear, there was no way the other was not doing it intentionally. Dave’s lips found their way to the crook of John’s neck. His hips moved on their own accord, his hands never loosened their grip, and his jaws parted to get his teeth around John’s flesh. He bit down, hard. The sound tearing from John’s throat was a startled one, melting into pure bliss, and he craned his head to allow Dave space. Dave’s teeth left dents in John’s earthy skin, small, dark bruises decorating it in the shape of an oval bite. It stung, and John’s head was swimming from the feeling.

Dave’s teeth did not leave John’s skin for long. “C’mon....” He nibbled on John’s earlobe, tugging at it before lips kissed the reddening skin. “Cum for Daddy.”

It was all that John needed to hear― a breath later and he was shooting lines of cum onto both their stomachs, crying out as the world came to a halt with the orgasm washing over him. The cock inside of him pounded against his prostate, sending his body into a state of over-stimulation that had his body shaking violently in Dave’s hold; the man’s hands were still latched onto his hips, dragging him down on Dave’s dick again and again. Then, they both felt Dave’s cock twitch. Dave pulled out, a weak protest coming from John in the form of a groan as his hips fell back on the bed, no longer supported by neither Dave’s girth or hands. Gripping his dick in one hand, he pumped himself, stroking the shaft as he felt everything build up, then suddenly releasing― Dave sucked in his stomach, his balls tightening as he added thick spurts of cum to the mess gathering around John’s navel. He rocked his hips, drawing out every last bit of his orgasm, before finally he felt spent. Used and satisfied. And weak; Dave fell forward and landed on top of John. The other gave a disgruntled grunt.

“Ew, Dave―” Their chests were flush together, squelching the cum between them. It felt warm and thick. He did not mind having Dave between his legs, sharing the afterglow, but the drying semen was anything but pleasant. Dave seemed dead set on not moving, though. His arms had snaked their way around John’s shoulder, and his mouth pressed lazy, sloppy kisses to the other’s neck.

“Atta boy,” Dave breathed out. He put his lips on the dark mark his teeth had left earlier. John snorted, running a hand through Dave’s blond locks, matted with sweat but shiny all the same.

“I might just have to call my dad by his first name if this is how you get from being called Daddy.”

“Oh my god. Shut up, John, you fuckin’ baby.”

“Yes, Daddy!”

John let out a yelp when Dave gave a swift slap to his sore bottom.


End file.
